


Between Two Eternities

by Mertens



Series: Rat AU [2]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Gen, Mouse AU, Past Character Death, Reincarnation, prequel to The Opera Rat Really Did Exsist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertens/pseuds/Mertens
Summary: Raoul de Chagny happens upon a mouse one day, and he thinks they’ve met before.
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny & Christine Daaé
Series: Rat AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626601
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	Between Two Eternities

Raoul tugged his red scarf up higher, not because it was very cold out, but just so he had something to focus on. It was too foggy out. 

He hated foggy days. They made him sad, made him think of that day so long ago on the beach. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked faster down the street, but he couldn’t outrun his memories. 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Cecile sniffed the air that wafted through the little hole to the outside world. 

“Of course! I went through yesterday! I’m here now, aren’t I?” Elissa told her. 

Cecile hesitated, looking closely at Elissa, but she saw no lie there in her little face. Elissa always had been the bravest of the bunch, frequently finding ways to escape during the night and returning with daylight. 

“It’s true,” another mouse piped up. “I saw her go!”

And she had - Elissa had been hard to miss, her white and blonde fur shining in the moonlight as she’d wiggled out of her cage and made her way to the mysterious hole in the wall - the one that was left there by that awful rat by the name of Joseph, who had chewed his way into the pet store not even two days ago to steal food. He’d made the girls feel uncomfortable and frightened - how he’d leered at them! - each one afraid they’d be his next meal, but Elissa had bravely pointed out where all the boxes of food were stored, and after that he’d left the mice alone. 

So of course it would be Elissa who would be the first to explore outside. 

“There’s strange new foods out there,” Elissa explained. “All kinds of things!” 

Cecile squirmed, uncertain. 

“Look, I’ll go first!” Elissa went through, and Cecile held her breath and went after her, followed by four more mice who were curious as well. 

It was foggy out, but Elissa was undaunted. She led the little troupe of girls to the street, her nose held high, looking this way and that for danger. They huddled close to her, and she took them to the cafe across the road - she could smell something delicious over there. 

Raoul was lost in the sea of his own thoughts. He had stayed up far too late the previous night, reading a novel in which a character’s soul had come back and inhabited a new body. Could such a thing really exist? Did some people get a second chance at life? He liked reading for the opportunity to escape into new worlds and forget about his troubles for a while, but it seemed he had picked exactly the wrong book last night, because it only made his feelings today worse. 

There was no such thing as reincarnation, he knew that. And yet- 

He wished he hadn’t tarried so long at his friend Victor’s house, or at least had taken him up on the offer of a cab. In the interest of time, he had been forced to take the shorter way back to the mansion, the way that led him past far too many things he’d rather forget. 

At the front of the cafe were a few tables and chairs, and under one of these tables someone had dropped nearly an entire plate of sweetly iced cookies. The girls squealed with delight when they saw them, exclaiming over how pretty they were, and then again about how delicious they were. 

But their joyous little party was short-lived. Ominous footsteps echoed in the distance, getting closer and closer. 

Raoul walked by the cafe, causing the mice to panic and run back to the pet store - all but one mouse. 

All but Elissa. 

She wasn’t frightened because she didn’t think a human could fit under the table, and she knew that if she stayed still he likely wouldn’t notice her. 

He pointedly looked away from the cafe windows, the place he had first met Christine and her father when they were young. Philippe had been overjoyed to happen to meet the famous violinist, and they had talked for a long time while Raoul had made friends with his daughter. 

Right there, at that very table inside the little building, right in the corner. 

He lowered his eyes, his brow furrowing. 

A group of scampering mice caught his attention as they all darted away from him - all but one. 

Elissa looked up at him, meeting his eye as she munched on her cookie. She wasn’t frightened in the least - there was something about him that felt safe to her. Not just safe in the sense that he wouldn’t harm her, but also that he would protect her from anything else, too. 

He gawked at her, suddenly struck by a memory from the past. 

She looked at him curiously, his dark blond hair with a charming curl to it, his finely tailored clothing, his thin moustache. He was nice to look at. 

He swallowed hard. He’d never seen a mouse like this before. Her little blonde patches, just the same color as _her_ hair- and the way she looked at him so fearlessly- _she_ had always been fearless. His eyes fell to what she was eating, and his throat constricted. 

That was her favorite cookie. 

“Christine?” he asked in a trembling voice. 

Elissa tilted her head, trying to understand. Who was Christine? 

He knelt down and reached out a cautious hand to her. 

“Is that you?”

She dropped her cookie and sniffed, eyes going wide. He smelled like vanilla, and, not realizing it was cologne, she thought that maybe he had a treat with him. She carefully picked her over way to him, going right up to his hand. 

He sucked in a breath as she walked right up to him, a tear forming in his eye. 

It was- it was _her_. 

“ _Christine_ ,” he choked. “I’m so, so sorry. I tried so hard to save you - I really did.”

He felt like a fool babbling all this to a mouse on the street, but he couldn’t stop. 

“But I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t- I didn’t know how to swim, and I was so scared. Do you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me?”

Elissa licked his hand, and he placed his other hand over his mouth to stifle his sob. 

She was beginning to realize that he didn’t have a treat for her. He seemed to be saying a lot of words that didn’t have anything to do with her, but he seemed nice, although she couldn’t understand why he looked so sad. Sadness didn’t suit his face. If he did have a hidden treat, well, maybe the kiss would coax it out of him. If not, at least it might cheer him up.

“ _Oh, Christine-_ ”

She had a moment of surprise as he wrapped his hand around her and scooped her up, but she didn’t struggle. 

“I’ll keep you safe, Christine. I swear,” he whispered fiercely. “You’ll never get hurt again, ever.”

She blinked. Had he named her? Was she to be Christine, then?

He looked around, making certain that she hadn’t been dropped by anyone who owned her, but there was no one around, and hadn’t been since he’d been here on this street. 

“You’ll stay with me from now on, Christine,” he told her, and tucked her into his pocket. 

Well, if he wanted her to be Christine, she would be Christine for him, she supposed. She peeked her head out of his pocket, observing the world as it went by. What would her new life as Christine be like? 

He hovered his hand over the pocket, afraid she might fall or try to jump out, but she seemed quite comfortable there. 

Elissa- _Christine_ was amazed at the huge house the boy seemingly lived in. A servant greeted him warmly at the door. Christine squirmed down deeper into his pocket, a little overwhelmed by it all, but grateful for his comforting presence. He tried to creep by the door of the large study without notice, but it didn’t work. 

“Raoul!”

Ah, so that was the name of her new friend. 

“How was Victor?” Philippe asked, waving him into the study. 

“Just fine. He sends his regards,” Raoul tried to hide what was in his pocket, but Christine was wiggling. 

Philippe noticed, his smile turning into a grin. 

“What’s that you have there?”

Raoul shrugged. 

“Nothing much.”

“Nothing much? Is that any way to introduce me to your new pet?” he chuckled. “Come on, let me see it.”

He reached his hand out expectantly. Raoul was always bringing little animals home with him, rabbits and birds and snakes and lizards and insects. Some were injured, and he’d care for them until they were better and could be released back into their own homes in the wilderness, but many where just animals he’d found and picked up. Philippe wasn’t particularly fond of all of them, especially the less-than-pleasant ones to look at (such as that toad that had looked at him funny), but he enjoyed that Raoul enjoyed caring for them, and he had to admit some of them were rather charming. 

Raoul pulled Christine out and showed her to Philippe. 

He raised an eyebrow. At least this one appeared to be a tame mouse by its coloring, not like that field mouse Raoul had taken in last year only to cry for three days straight after it had escaped into the garden and refused to show itself again. 

“Does it have a name yet?” he mused, as he let him place the mouse on his waiting palm. 

Christine sniffed at him, curious. He didn’t smell like he had a treat with him, either. It disappointed her just a little. She didn’t mind that Raoul had taken her to his home, but he _had_ interrupted her meal of a cookie, after all. 

“Christine,” Raoul mumbled. 

Philippe paused. 

“And does she have a last name?” 

Raoul had the habit of giving all of his pets a last name in addition to their first name, and they frequently had at least one middle name as well. 

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What’s her last name?”

Raoul was silent. He knew Philippe wouldn’t understand, and didn’t really want to tell him.

“Did you name her de Chagny?” he teased. 

“Daaé,” he mumbled, and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“Christine Daaé?” Philippe asked, his smile slowly fading. 

Philippe remembered Christine Daaé. Raoul and the girl had been inseparable during the six months they’d known each other, cut short by her tragic demise in a terrible accident. 

“Raoul,” he said gently. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want to... talk?”

He still remembered how hard his little brother had taken it when Christine had drowned, how inconsolable he had been for so very long afterwards. 

Raoul shook his head. 

“No, I’m fine. It’s just-“ he hesitated. “That’s what I named her, is all.”

“Well, I’m always here if you need me, you know that,” he handed Christine back to him. “Now, why don’t you show her around her new home?”

Raoul took her and left, Philippe steepling his hand as he considered. His brother had often named his pets after people they knew - there had even been a Philippe snake, once. Still, he’d never expected _that_ name to show up. He supposed, though, that Raoul had never really been one to behave how one expected him to. 

He’d done a number of odd things after Christine, like insisting he wanted to become a sailor once he was a little older. Philippe might have expected that after seeing his beloved friend drown in the sea, he’d want nothing to do with the water, that he’d perhaps even gain a phobia of the ocean. But instead, Raoul had become nearly obsessed with it, learning to swim not long after losing her, and then to sail when he was a teen. He’d worried for him, sometimes, over the amount of time he’d spend at the lake practicing his swimming skills, but the boy had seemed well adjusted in every other aspect. He hoped that this was just another of his brother’s peculiar - but harmless - quirks. If he wanted to name his pet after his friend, what was the harm? 

Raoul took her up into his room, setting her down on a window ledge. She looked outside - they were so far up! 

“This is where you’ll live now,” he told her. “You’ll have everything you ever wanted.”

He tilted his head, thinking, then held a finger out to her. 

“Stay right there - I’ll be right back!”

He sprinted from the room, leaving her to marvel at her new surroundings all by herself. His room was large, a covered birdcage in the corner, an empty aquarium tank, shelves of books, a telescope, several chests and dressers filled with clothes. 

He returned with a dollhouse, which he set upon a table near the window. 

“This can be for you!”

Her eyes went wide as he placed her inside the dollhouse, looking around it. Was this really all for her? 

She squeaked as she ran around inside of it, exploring each room, and Raoul watched her, pleased. She liked Raoul very much, she decided, and was glad that he had been the one to steal her from the pet store. 

He reached into a little locked box and pulled something out, looking at it in his hand a moment before bringing it over to her. 

“I saved this,” he told her, sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind...”

She tilted her head. Why would she mind? 

He stretched out his hand, showing her the little object and setting it in front of her. It was a buckle from a girl’s shoe. 

“You lost it the day of our picnic, and I had meant to give it back to you when I saw you next, when we were at the pier-“ he had to stop, his voice cut off by emotion. 

He’d never had a chance to return her shoe buckle. He really had meant to give it to her when they were to part that afternoon at the seaside - but then she had fallen off the pier, and they had parted in a different way, and by the time the afternoon was over she no longer had need of shoe buckles again. 

Christine came very close to the shiny buckle, inspecting it carefully. It was beautiful! How the silver gleamed! How cunningly crafted it was! She patted her little hands on it, making an appreciative noise. How nice it felt under her paws, too! 

“You recognize it,” Raoul smiled, almost disbelievingly. 

Christine rubbed her face on it. Recognize it? She’d never seen it before in her life! But it was very lovely, all the same. She picked it up in her mouth and scampered off to the dollhouse, placing it inside for safe keeping. She liked this object. 

“I’m glad I could keep it safe for you, until you got back.”

She peeked around the corner of a dollhouse wall, looking at him curiously. Got back from where? 

She spent the rest of the day exploring his room with him, listening to him talk about this and that and though she were an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while. She didn’t understand some of what he said, but that was okay. He didn’t seem to mind, and she had plenty of time to learn. 

“Raoul, dinner is almost ready,” Philippe stuck his head in goes brother’s room, smiling a little sadly at how he was sitting on the floor and playing with Christine, dangling a tiny pompon on a string for her to chase. 

“I’ll be right down,” he spared a fleeting glance at Philippe, his mind still consumed with his new little companion. 

Philippe chuckled a little as he left for the dining room, but when Raoul joined him a few minutes later, sitting at the table, he was no longer chuckling. 

Raoul had brought Christine to the dinner table. 

Philippe felt his eye twitch as Raoul placed her directly onto the table. 

“I didn’t know we were having a guest at dinner,” Philippe said, tight lipped. 

Raoul raised an eyebrow as he took and extra salad plate and placed it in front of Christine. 

“Well. Now you know.”

Philippe scoffed. 

“Raoul, really! You know the rule - no animals at the dinner table.”

“She’s not an animal, she’s-“

He stopped himself before he could finish what he was about to say, but he adamantly did not remove her from where she was, standing on her hind legs in front of her plate, nose to the air as she breathed in a whiff of the roasted potatoes and juicy steaks. 

Philippe looked at her, slightly horrified. A mouse was practically a rat! What if she ran up and touched the food on the platters, sullying it? Dinner would be ruined! 

“ _Raoul_ -“ he warned, hoping it would be enough to sway him, because he really didn’t have any plan after that - he had always been too soft-hearted to ever truly get mad at him.

Raoul scowled a little and grabbed Christine off the table, surprising her and making her squeak and wiggle. She wanted that heavenly-smelling food! 

“Raoul, please, I’m hungry!” she begged him and pouted, squeezing her hands around his. 

He set her gently on the chair next to his, his eyes apologetic as he looked at her. 

“I don’t want you feeding her at the table,” Philippe said, earning another pouting glare from his brother. 

“Is that a new floral arrangement?” Raoul asked, nodding towards one on the pedestal behind Philippe, who turned to look at it. 

“Yes, I think it is,” Philippe turned back to table, taking a moment to realize that the extra plate (and part of one of the steaks) was missing. 

He narrowed his eyes at Raoul but said nothing, trying to pretend that their grandmother’s priceless dishes were not currently being used to serve an expensive cut of beef to a _mouse_ sitting at the dinner table of a Comte. 

Christine thought she was in heaven. She had never imagined food could be like this! Every so often Raoul would slyly - or least what he _thought_ was slyly - sneak another small piece of some delicacy to her plate where she eagerly enjoyed it. Philippe pointedly pretended that this was not happening, either. 

Having seemingly gotten away with feeding her at the table, Raoul seemed to cheer up during dinner. They discussed the opera they were going to see later that evening, and who had been cast in which role, and the upcoming changes to ballet corps. 

“Mm - I let the cook go home early tonight, she has a sick relative she wanted to go help. We’ll have to clean the dishes ourselves,” Philippe remembered. 

Raoul picked his and Christine’s plates up accordingly, helping Philippe take them into the kitchen at the end of meal. Christine rode on Raoul’s shoulder as he did so, until he had brought the last of the dishes in kitchen, at which point he let her run down his sleeve and on to the counter. 

Philippe looked at her for a long moment and said nothing, but his jaw was clenched. 

“I’ll wash and you dry?” he said, trying to forget that his brother was allowing a mouse to run freely over the countertop. 

“Okay. Watch out for Christine, though.”

Christine had started exploring the countertop, looking at each object found there, salt and pepper shakers, a collection of knives - but her attention was drawn back to the sink when Philippe started filling it with water. She carefully made her way up to it. 

Philippe glanced at her, but let her look at the water. She _was_ rather cute, as far as mice went. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as germ-infested as he feared. 

She held on to the edge of the sink and stretched her head out, fascinated by the running water and the noises it made. 

Raoul happened to look over at just that moment and panicked. 

“Philippe!” he yelped, throwing himself across the counter to pull her back. “I asked you to watch her!”

“I was watching her,” Philippe replied, baffled. 

Raoul cradled her to his chest, tears forming in his eyes. 

“You weren’t,” he said, blinking hard. “She could have fallen in! She could have drowned! She could have _died_!”

Christine was frightened now, not because of the thought of almost falling in (she certainly didn’t think she was close to falling, and she could swim, besides), but because Raoul was so upset. She buried her face in his shirt, pressing her hands over her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear his hurt words. 

He choked back a sob. 

“I can’t let that happen to her again!”

“Again?”

Everything was silent for a long moment. 

“It’s Christine,” Raoul said simply, looking down at his feet. “It’s her.”

Philippe shifted, uneasy. 

“What do you mean?”

“Christine has come back... Her soul. It’s- it’s in this mouse,” he felt so incredibly silly - so stupid - saying it out loud. He _knew_ how it sounded, but Philippe hadn’t seen all the signs! He wasn’t just making this up! 

“You think- that the girl you used to be friends with- is now a- a mouse?” 

He nodded slowly. 

“I don’t think it, Philippe. I know it.”

Raoul often played pranks on his brother, but Philippe knew that his childhood trauma would not be something he’d use in a prank against him - and even without that certainty, the look in his eyes was far too pleading for him ever to think that Raoul was telling anything beyond what he viewed as the absolute truth. 

Philippe turned back to the sink, turning the water off. He was stunned. He didn’t know how to process this. 

“Why don’t you let me finish in here,” he finally turned back him, speaking gently. “Take Christine upstairs where she’s safe, and just relax a while until it’s time to leave for the show.”

Raoul nodded and left for his room, thankful his brother didn’t press him on the matter or mock it. 

Christine removed her paws from her ears. She hadn’t heard what, exactly, they’d been saying, but she could tell from the tones of their voices that they weren’t upset anymore. 

He let Christine play in her dollhouse while he changed for the opera. She felt sleepy now after such a big meal, and curled up on the plush doll sofa to nap. 

She awoke a little late to Raoul softly calling her name. 

“Christine... do you want to go to the opera with us?” he asked softly. 

She chirped. She didn’t know what an opera was. 

Philippe studied Raoul carefully during the ride to the opera, but truthfully he didn’t seem any different than he had before. He didn’t want to admit it, but hearing him say Christine had become a mouse had given him a scare. It sounded so- so strange! So unusual! Had something happened to Raoul to make his lose grip on reality just a little bit? But his brother was just as bright and lively and sharp as he’d always been. 

He tried to push it from his mind as they settled into their seats in the audience. As long as he seemed fine in every other regard, he supposed it couldn’t be _too_ bad, though he resolved to keep a closer eye on him, just in case. 

Christine squirmed out of his pocket, curious as to what was going on. She looked up, dazzled by the huge chandelier. She climbed onto his shoulder so she could see better. Suddenly there was a humming noise, and she looked around for what might be causing it. It ceased, only to come back as an enormous wave of sound. It was so loud! Too loud! She trembled and shook. The world was ending! 

But then a voice joined the sound, and she forgot to be frightened. 

She slowly grew accustomed to the loud music, helped by the distraction of the beautiful singers in beautiful costumes. Was this opera? Oh, it was lovely! She stretched a little paw towards the woman on stage. How she wished that were her up there! 

Far too soon it was over, and she stared at the stage with desperation, wishing it was still going. It had been magical! 

Raoul and Philippe stayed in their seats, reading their program booklets and talking about the show. Suddenly the lights dimmed and the music started again. Her eyes widened. It was starting again! 

She sat enraptured by the whole thing. At the very end, Raoul and Philippe stood and clapped, just like the rest of the audience, and Christine stood on her own hind legs and tried to clap her hands together, too. She whistled through her teeth, hoping the wonderful singers could hear her. 

The performance was well and truly over, sadly not coming back on again like she hoped it would. Raoul carefully tucked her back inside his pocket and she sighed. Why couldn’t it be opera all of the time? 

The show was over but they didn’t leave the building just yet, she found. She stayed hidden in his pocket as they walked somewhere, and then she heard Philippe’s cheery voice call out, “Hello, girls!”, something that was greeted by a number of pretty, feminine voices. 

Unbeknownst to Raoul, Philippe had a plan. He was clearly too stuck in the past recently, and he couldn’t blame him - it was around this time of year that he had lost Christine, after all. But- maybe all he needed was to lose himself to another girl. And there were so many to choose from! He was fine. He just needed a distraction! 

“Sorelli will be out soon,” a young woman told Philippe. 

He nodded. 

“Perhaps, ah- perhaps one or two of you might be interested in entertaining by brother this evening?” he clapped Raoul on the shoulder, who shot a panicked glance at him. 

_Entertain_? He didn’t want to be entertained! 

He smiled nervously at the girls, chuckling. Philippe hadn’t told him anything about this! He thought it would be the same as every other evening at the opera, that he’d only wanted to come see Sorelli after the show. 

One of the ballet rats jumped up and held her hands out to him. Raoul’s face fell. He turned to his brother. 

“ _Philippe_ ,” he whispered urgently. “I don’t want to!”

Philippe rolled his eyes. 

“Just _talk_ to her!” he shoved him forward. “For goodness’s sake!”

“About what?!” he resisted the shove, planting his feet firmly on the ground. 

“ _Anything_!” he hissed. 

Raoul gave him one last look of despair as two ballet dancers took either one of his hands and pulled him towards a couch. Philippe sighed heavily. Nineteen years old, and still afraid of girls. 

He sat on a couch not too far away (lest Raoul need help somehow), waiting for Sorelli, and casually eavesdropping on their conversation. 

Raoul swallowed hard as he was made to sit down between the two girls, his eyes darting between them, his hands squeezing and bunching in the fabric of his trousers over his knees. He was awkwardly silent. 

“Did you like the show tonight?” the one girl asked. 

“Oh, yes - it was very good,” he breathed. 

“Did you like the ballet?” the other asked. 

He smiled a little. This wasn’t so very bad, after all. 

“The ballet was the best part!” he said seriously. 

They both giggled. 

“Say,” he said suddenly. “I didn’t catch your names.”

“Meg.”

“Alice.”

“I’m Raoul.”

“Oh, we know who you are,” Meg’s eyes sparkled. 

“Does Philippe talk about me?”

“He does!” Alice laughed. 

Raoul turned and wrinkled his nose at his brother, who adopted an innocent look. 

“Oh!” Raoul said suddenly - he had thought of the _perfect_ discussion topic. “I have a surprise for you!”

Eager to see what was happening around her, Christine had chewed a hole in the bottom of his jacket pocket, but she had accidentally chewed through to the inside of it instead of the outside. She had become lost inside of all his layers of clothing, somehow wedging herself down by his trousers. He was surprised to realize she had escaped, and he reached down to the front of his lap to remove her. 

The girls giggled a little nervously, afraid that they knew exactly what the “surprise” was going to be, judging from where he was reaching into his clothing. 

Philippe furrowed his brow at the scene in front of him. Was Raoul really about to-? He’d never thought his brother capable of being so bold...

He hid Christine in between his hands with a grin on his face, bringing her up closer before opening his hands and letting the girls see what he was hiding. They both leaned in a little, curious now. 

She looked up from her crouched position, surprised by how bright the room the room was, and by how many people were looking at her. 

The girls screamed just a little, and jumped back. 

Philippe, from his vantage point, had seen only that Raoul, after promising a surprise, had struggled with his pants a moment and then shown something that made Meg and Alice jump away in fright. He thought he was going to have a heart attack. Raoul knew better than treat them like that! 

But then they both leaned in again, cooing over it with adoring faces. 

“Oh, she’s so cute!” Meg sighed. 

‘She’? Philippe raised an eyebrow. 

“And tiny!” Alice chimed in. 

Philippe nearly passed out. 

“Her name is Christine!” Raoul said happily. 

Christine looked up at Meg and Alice and squeaked a polite hello to them, much to their delight. A few other ballet girls realized there was some little animal in his hands, and they all gathered around to look at it. 

Christine was a little frightened at first, with so many faces around her all at once, but she knew Raoul wouldn’t let any harm come to her. She pulled at her tail and began to groom her fur shyly. It was a nice feeling to be admired, but deep in her heart she was modest. 

Philippe’s eye twitch had returned. Every girl who wasn’t already sitting with a patron (and even a few who were had dragged their patron with them to join the crowd) was looking at his little brother holding up a mouse. This was what he was going to be remembered for. The boy with the mouse. This is what Philippe was going to be remembered for - being the brother of the boy with the mouse. He almost, _almost_ wished that the ‘surprise’ actually had been his manhood instead, just so that the girls could have slapped him for his lewdness and the whole thing would have been over. 

Sorelli finally arrived, placing a soft on Philippe’s cheek. Well, Philippe thought, perhaps it wasn’t so bad. 

“What’s Raoul got?” Sorelli asked, tilting her head. 

Philippe wanted to pull his own hair out and scream. 

The evening passed, Raoul telling stories about his pet mouse to anyone who would listen, and Philippe sulking in the corner despite Sorelli sitting on his lap. 

Christine fell asleep in the dollhouse that night with the wonderful music still floating through her little head, and the warm feeling of being watched by so many adoring faces. The two things mixed together in her mind and created a dream of herself singing on stage, and how everyone in the audience would look at her. 

Raoul slept late the following morning as well. By the time he got up, his sister had already arrived on her weekly visit. He dressed quickly so he could hurry downstairs and see her. 

He approached the parlor but stopped just before he went around the corner, something about Philippe’s tone that concerned him and made him pause. 

“I’m worried about him,” he sighed. 

“That’s really what he told you?”

“Those exact words. He thinks it’s her!”

“Maybe he didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, no - that’s exactly how he meant it.”

“Well, is he okay?”

“I don’t know... He seems okay, I suppose. The same as always... But what if this is, I don’t know - the _start_ of something? What if he starts having other delusions, too?”

_Other_ delusions? The words struck Raoul like a knife. His brother thought he was crazy. 

“I just worry for him,” he continued. “I don’t know how to handle that.”

“I don’t think any of us know how to handle that. Do you really think his mind is... going?”

“I hope not,” he sighed. 

“We could make arrangements to send him to the countryside for a while, if you think it would help. I hope it doesn’t have to come to that, though.”

Raoul wiped at the tears falling down his face. His brother and his sister were planning to send him away because they thought his mind had gone. 

He walked into the doorframe, interrupting Philippe’s reply. Both siblings at in the sitting room froze, shocked that he had shown up. The look of hurt on his face was obvious. 

“Raoul-“ he breathed. 

But Raoul turned on his heel and practically ran to his room. He slammed his door shut and sank to the floor, crying into his hands. 

He wasn’t crazy! He hadn’t lost his mind! He had never been so embarrassed and ashamed in his entire life. Was that really what everyone thought of him?

Christine heard him crying and came running. She looked up at him with concern, but he took no notice of her. Undaunted, she climbed up the side of his jacket and onto his shoulder, where she began to lick the saltwater tears from his cheek. 

He sniffled, then patted her. He picked her up and held her in front of his face. She stretched forward to kiss his nose. She didn’t want him to be sad. 

He sighed, smiling just a little. 

What if he was wrong? Everyone seemed to think so. Maybe he was being stupid for even considering it. 

“I guess... Maybe you’re just a mouse, after all,” he whispered to her. 

She felt her heart sink just a little. Just a mouse? Of course she was a mouse... What else did he want her to be? 

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “I’m still going to take care of you.”

He had wanted so badly for it to be true, to be able to think that it was her, because then it would mean that hadn’t failed, not really - he would have a second chance to protect her and take care of her, to give her everything she’d been denied in her previous life. 

But maybe second chances didn’t come again. Maybe they all only had one chance, and he’d have to live with the knowledge that what happened had happened, and that nothing would ever change that or alleviate his pain over how it ended. 

He set her back on the floor and went to go find Philippe and their sister. 

He never mentioned the original Christine Daaé again, and eventually the episode moved to the back of Philippe’s mind. Time passed, and though Raoul still cared for little Christine with all of the same loving kindness he would have shown his human friend, his life was much the same as it had been, and Philippe saw no reason to worry. 

For her part, Christine loved her new life. She loved the wonderful food and treats she was always given, she loved the giant house with so many places to explore. She loved going to the opera regularly, learning the songs and eventually being able to sing along to them in the audience. She loved Raoul, who was so sweet to her and saw to her every need. She even loved Philippe, who might be a little distant, but only because he was shy - that was okay, she knew he loved her, too, even if he was shy. 

“Christine,” Raoul greeted her as he came in his room. “Guess what day it is!”

She wiggled her nose, trying to think. 

“It has been two months since you came to live with us!” he told her. “And as such, this present is for you!”

He gave her a little cake he had baked, one almost the size of her. 

She stood on her hind legs and chirped, singing a little song. 

He watched her happiness, happy himself, but also a little sad. He wasn’t so certain anymore that this was his childhood friend - maybe Philippe was right. Maybe he _had_ been a little crazy to think otherwise. Maybe she really was just a mouse. But she was still his mouse, and he still loved her, all the same. Maybe she wasn’t Christine, but maybe she could be a way to honor the memory of her. 

After giving her the cake, he pulled out some books his history tutor had wanted him to write a paper about. He settled in to study, glancing out the window and frowning a little. It was foggy out. 

Christine ate as much of her cake as she could, saving the rest for later. She sat down and cleaned her face, washing her hands and wiping frosting off of her whiskers. When she had finished, she looked around for Raoul, finding he had fallen fast asleep in the middle of studying. She went over to him. 

His head was resting on his open book on the table, his arm sprawled across his notebook. She smiled fondly at him, wavering in her plans of exploring outside in the garden. 

She glanced out the window, her decision made when she realized it was foggy out. 

She hated the fog, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. It made her feel strange. 

She curled up in Raoul’s hand, wrapping her tail around herself, sighing happily. Raoul made her feel safe, even in a world filled with fog. She closed her eyes, feeling sleepy and peaceful. 

Somewhere between wakefulness and slumber, her mind lingered on a thought, a dream, a memory. 

She was with Raoul. She was happy. They were laughing and playing by the seaside. But it wasn’t the Raoul she knew today - it was Raoul when he was a little boy of nine or ten. Maybe that should have made her wonder, but it didn’t, just like she didn’t wonder why she could see her own human hands crafting sandcastles in this dream. They built sandcastles on the beach, and then they ran up to the pier to look out at the waves and eat taffy, but the fog made the waves nearly invisible, and made the old wood of the pier slippery. 

_”Christine, careful!” child Raoul calls out in the fog, his young voice full of concern, his small hand reaching for hers. She reaches her hand out to him, but she’s already fallen, down into the fog, down into the waves, and the last thing in her mind before she’s consumed in the water is the peace of knowing that Raoul_ will _protect her no matter what._

Her dream cut to black, as it always did. 

She woke a little while later, stretching out and yawning. She’d already forgotten her dream, just like the dozens and dozens of times she’d forgotten it before. She smacked her lips and blinked her eyes, looking up at Raoul who was still fast asleep. She smiled, laying her head on her paws again. There was nowhere safer than Raoul’s hands. It might have only been two months she’d spent here, but she felt like she’d known him all her life. 

He shifted a little, slowly waking up. He groaned. He hated falling asleep at his desk, but his history book was just so _boring_. He chuckled when he realized Christine had come and lay down in his hand. 

“Christine,” he said. “I can’t sleep now, I have to study!”

She squeaked at him, and then curled up again. She was still sleepy! Why did he have to study? 

He smiled wryly, arranging his hand in a way that would allow her to remain undisturbed as he continued to read. He stifled a yawn and started reading his book again, taking one more glance at Christine. She had already fallen back asleep, dozing comfortably, just waiting for dinner to come around and the fog to finally roll away.


End file.
